Enjoy this intro to Allison Merritt, a blurb and an excerpt for Wystan, a deliciously spooky-sounding book.

Five Things You Didn't Know About Allison Merritt

It's a pen name. You might find me on the web under my real name, but when I decided to get serious about writing, I chose a nom de plume. I was writing as A.R. Cummings for a while, but I wanted something that would sound romance author-y. My great-grandmother's Christian name was Alice, my great-grandfather's last name was Merritt. You know how Thomson is the son of Tom? I decided to be Allison.

I thought I'd never deviate from historical romance. The first romance novel I ever read was a historical. I've always been interested in history, particularly the Old West. And I started writing them when I was around sixteen. The first novel I successfully finished was a historical romance. In 2009, I started writing steampunk romance and it took me way away from western base camp. That's what led to The Heckmasters series and made me feel like it was okay to throw monsters into a part of history that I adore. I'm so glad I did.

I intended to self-publish The Heckmasters series. I got my start in self-publishing in 2011 when the publisher I'd signed with closed its doors. So I took a crash course in self-publishing and my first short story hit the internet in December 2011. It's free, btw, if you want to download it from Amazon. It's called Return. I put out three full-length novels on my own, but in 2013, I signed a contract with Lyrical Press to publish my historical romance. I thought the Heckmasters might be a little too weird, so I didn't submit it to my editor there. Instead, I entered it in the 2013 Weta Nichols Writing Contest and to my surprise, it not only won the paranormal/sci-fi category, the judging editor wanted to see the whole thing. She offered the contract in December 2013.

When I get telemarketers on the phone, I tell them about our Dark Lord Cthulu. Even though I was raised in the Bible Belt. I might have a good Christian upbringing--and a degree from a Christain college--but I love to research the darker side of life. Mythology, demonology. Oh yeah, I'm a Supernatural fan all the way. There's something irresistible about the unknown.

I once ran over a unicorn. Okay, maybe it wasn't a real unicorn, but it was really late at night and I was driving home in fog. My headlights shined on something that definitely looked like a unicorn but was probably a figment of my overactive imagination. I'm pretty sure even unicorns would leave dents if you hit one and since the car was dent-free when I arrived home, I think I'm good. Also, I once saw a Native American boy in buckskins in the road. I accidentally ran him over too. I have to stop driving late at night because my brain clearly likes to confuse me. I can't explain the unicorn, but I'm chalking the native boy up to ghosts.

Blurb:

Certain that an ad for a job in a small New Mexico Territory town is the answer to her prayers, Nebraska schoolteacher Rhia Duke packs her sister into a rickety wagon and heads west. Except when they reach the near-deserted town, she learns the truth. There is no job, no future, and no welcome in the bleak blue eyes of the handsome sheriff. The minute Rhia’s runaway team thunders into town, Wystan Heckmaster feels the change in the air. One of three sons of a demon who dared love a human, he keeps watch over a Pit guarded by seven seals, and slays any Hellbound demon that attempts to free the master imprisoned within. With a gut full of regret and a forgotten town filled with reformed demons, Wystan is certain of one thing: he can’t be the man Rhia needs. But when the truth behind Rhia’s flight from Nebraska comes to light, Wystan must open his soul—and pray there’s enough love between them to overcome the darkness rising from the Pit. Warning: Contains a take-no-prisoners sheriff, a woman who can’t outrun her supernatural secrets, and a dusty town where hope is as thin as dust in the wind. Author recommends keeping a glass of cool spring water at your elbow while reading.Excerpt: Something changed in the air the moment the wagon crossed the town’s border. Too early to be a supply train, and there was no way in hell it was visitors. Berner didn’t host town fairs, theatre troupes, peddlers, or bible thumpers. Wystan Heckmaster slapped his battered Stetson on his head, collected the keys to the jail, then stepped out the door. The first thing he saw was a pretty woman with hair the color of maple sugar—a rich brownish-blonde. The frown on her face spoke volumes, and the air around her pronounced trouble. She made a straight path for him. “Mr. Heckmaster. Or should I call you Sheriff? Or Mayor? I need to discuss the ad in the Lancaster County Republican with you. Someone placed an ad, but your brother tells me there is no school here. I’m sure there has to be a mistake. There’s only one Berner in New Mexico Territory. I’m very capable at reading maps. If I wasn’t, I would be ashamed to call myself a teacher.” He doubted she had taken more than two or three breaths during the speech. If she made talking in rambling paragraphs a habit, no wonder she looked so peaked. “Teacher?” He glanced along the street, but it was deserted as usual. “Lady, we don’t have a school here. Certainly no need of a teacher.” Her hands balled into fists that settled on her hips. The dress she wore was patched-- the egg yolk yellow faded into something even more disgusting. It had little flowers dotting the material, but they looked as worn as her scuffed black boots. “Then what was the purpose of placing an ad in the Lancaster County Republican?” She spoke with the fierceness of a mama bear warning predators away from her cubs. Wystan reached into his shirt pocket and drew out a toothpick. “I didn’t place any ad in any Lancaster County anything.” He looked past her, expecting Eban to saunter up the street. Eban had to be the brother she’d referred to since Tell was still on the trail. “Someone did,” she insisted. She fished a crumpled and much-folded piece of newsprint out of the pocket hidden by the folds of her skirt. “See? Right here it says, ‘School teacher wanted for spring term at Berner Schoolhouse. Wages paid based on experience. Room and board provided. Apply in person at City Hall, Berner, New Mexico Territory.’ I’m sure my eyes don’t deceive me.” Wystan stared at the clipping, then back at the woman. A galaxy of freckles spattered across her nose and cheekbones, making her look younger than her eyes said she was. Full figured and sure as shittin’ a grown woman. The wariness and worry darkening her hazel eyes gave her away as one with a lot of trouble on her plate. “I can read.” She pulled the ad away from his face, folded it, and returned it to her pocket. “Where would you suggest I look for an explanation, Mr. Heckmaster?” Fussy little thing. “I assure you that no one in this town did. There’s been a mistake. Sorry to inconvenience you, Miss Schoolteacher. Now turn around and head home.” A flush colored her cheeks. “I can’t head home! I have no home to return to. My little sister and my friend are waiting at the doctor’s office for me to straighten this mess out. The ad says that room and board will be provided. I’d expected to move into a room, sir.” “You left them with Eban?” That explained his absence. “Beryl is ill, Sheriff. This is the first town we’ve seen in days and it was past time for her to get some attention.” Despair crept into her voice. Wystan shifted his weight and transferred the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Eban’s not exactly trained in human medicine.” The woman’s mouth opened into an O. She shook her head and seemed to regain her senses. “He’s a veterinarian? He seemed certain he could help Beryl.” Wystan cleared his throat. “Sure, animal doctor. I’m sorry for your misfortune, lady, but as you can see, Berner’s about run into the ground. There’s nothing here for you or your friend. Might be best to move along.” She seemed to deflate. “Move along.” Her lips moved, softly forming the words, but it was as though she didn’t comprehend them. “We’ll move along, right down the trail into the next town where there won’t be any teaching jobs either. Sylvie, Beryl, and I will starve to death on the side of the road with no one in the world to care.”

A love of reading inspired Allison Merritt to pursue her dream of becoming an author who writes historical, paranormal and fantasy romances, often combining the sub-genres. She lives in a small town in the Ozark Mountains with her husband and dogs. When she's not writing or reading, she hikes in national parks and conservation areas.

Allison graduated from College of the Ozarks in Point Lookout, Missouri with a B.A. in mass communications that's gathering dust after it was determined that she's better at writing fluff than hard news.